Have you ever felt like a nomad even though you aren’t really one?
I wish I were a nomad. Then I’d be and belong nowhere, but claim every place as not rejecting me since I’d just be passing by all the time. Never belonging.
Belonging is a funny concept. Who decides where and why you belong where, to what extent and how? You could do anything ’cause no one could claim you as belonging to them. Falling into their category and being this speck of a larger whole. You’d be an outsider; not necessarily a troublemaker (although they will surely call you one). Your own person in a way. No one decides for you nor controls you but yourself.
Were you never fascinated by witchcraft? Their practices and processes? Drawing funnies on the floor, setting fire to things and dancing around it in the moonlight? Brewing herbal remedies that actually work because you know your body’s reactions and what happens should you mix saffron with ale or so. A little bong or hookah pot beside you. Or perhaps a cat while you’re riding back and forth on a rocking chair.
But I almost romantacise that which contests.